


Prelude

by ChibiDargon



Series: The Other Side of The Coin [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backstory, Hermit Castiel, Mages, Magic, Michael vs lucifer, Nephilim Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:23:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiDargon/pseuds/ChibiDargon
Summary: The Novak family was a powerful family of mages. Castiel, the youngest of 5 and a half brother of the rest, was a Nephilim. He spent the majority of his life keeping the peace between his oldest brothers before moving to the United States in the early 20th Century.





	Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a series. This work is Castiel's backstory and a brief explanation as to how he feels about this whole ordeal at the beginning.

**Prelude**

_The Novaks, a family of Mages who used the power of all things corrupted and dark and evil, were seen by the world as an immovable and certain force. The eldest, Michael, ruled over his brothers with an iron fist. He always had, and if the family was to be believed, he probably always would._

_Luckily for the state of the world, they stayed out of the way for the most part. That was, however, mostly due to a conflict between the two oldest brothers. Michael and Lucifer. Lucifer had always been too willful, he rebelled against Michael again and again, but the carnage remained internal._

_The only reason that Michael and Lucifer did not make Earth into their battleground, was that they, though the oldest, were_ not _the strongest._

_The strongest of the Novak mages was also the youngest, Castiel._

**The Novak Estate, 10 B.C.**

It was a quiet day, quiet and still, that Castiel Novak was born. His mother, Anna, died as he drew his first breath, and the last vestiges of Grace within her very core lived on within her son. 

A Nephilim. That was what he was. Castiel Novak was born to an Angel and a Human. 

It was in a torrent of rage and grief that James Novak, Castiel’s father took his own life on that same quiet and cold day. Leaving his oldest son to lead the family.

Leaving his youngest son to believe that it was his hands that were stained with the blood of both of his parents. 

Anna was not the mother of any of the other Novak sons, and none of them knew just what their youngest brother was. None would know until many years later.

**The Novak Estate, 80 A.D.**

Castiel Novak was bored, he was bored and angry. Michael may have held the title of eldest, but that was no reason for _Castiel_ to take lives on his behalf. His refusal was certainly no reason for Michael to seal him into the cellar beneath the Estate. He glanced around and muttered a few words under his breath.

In front of him, a glowing sphere of blue-white light appeared to illuminate the dank cellar. He sighed, the place was cluttered and who _knew_ when Michael would get over this. He decided to look around for something to entertain him.

Castiel knew what his family did. That wasn’t the issue, well, more to the point the issue was that he was unsettled by where his family drew their power. He chose, instead, to draw his power from the earth itself, whereas his brothers drew theirs from the bordering layers of reality or death or demons. 

He didn’t believe in that. So there was something wrong with him. Because power was power, regardless of its source.

So he was weak, and that was _fine_ it was just fine because to Castiel, power didn’t matter.

As he rummaged through the large trunk in front of him, Castiel began to wonder about something that had been nagging at his mind for years. His brothers did not age because they spelled themselves with immortality, but Castiel had not done that. Therefore his unchanging physical form was an oddity that he could not explain.

Castiel shook himself out of that train of thought, it was a rabbit hole that he did not know the limits of, therefore it was not one that he should travel down very far.

Just as he was about to move on to a different discarded trunk, Castiel’s hand fell upon a book. He glanced down and his breath caught in his throat. The book was large and bound by leather and _power_. He almost could not bring himself to pick the volume up, but he pushed past his reservations.

The thing was massive, it was about the same size, in all dimensions, as his torso, and he was intimidated by the script on the front. Burnt into the leather was one word in a language that he did not understand. 

After a moment of staring, though, the letters began to make sense, _Enochian_ his mind supplied helpfully. The text was in Enochian. The symbols on the cover of the book became clear.

It read “Anael”

Anna.

His mother’s name had been Anna.

Castiel lifted a shaking hand to the book and opened it to the first page. 

The lines of Enochian that his gaze fell upon felt as though they contained pure energy, in fact the room seemed to hum with a foreign yet utterly familiar charge of power.

Castiel spent hours, or perhaps days, consuming the knowledge that Anna’s book contained. He had figured it out when he read some of the personal notations on the sides of the pages. Anna was an Angel. His mother had been an Angel. 

He took a few minutes to wonder about what that meant he was. He recalled a text that he had read years previous that the child of a Human and an Angel was called a _Nephilim_. The same text had also called Nephilims abominations of nature but he decided that he didn’t particularly care what some nameless faceless scholar had to say.

Castiel had found in his mother’s words the key to his own magic. His Grace, or so she called it. While angels had only Grace, Nephilim had a mixture of angelic Grace and a human Soul. It was a beautiful construct because the soul had the power to fuel Grace. 

He could power himself nearly endlessly. 

Castiel spent the following weeks in the cellar, learning to wield his new strength. Some days into this, he felt a strange weight on his back, one that he had never felt in truth before, he turned his head and gasped at the sight of two massive black _wings_. He took some time to learn to maneuver them, and learned to control their manifestation. 

When he had mastered all of the angelic abilities that his mother had written of, Castiel decided to attempt to do something else. To focus his Grace into physical form as a weapon. It took hours, more than he bothered to remember, but his labor paid off in the form of a blade about the length of his forearm. 

It was silver in color, but it was _alive_ with his Grace. Out of curiosity, Castiel cut his own arm slightly and was alarmed a silver-white light shone out of the cut. After a moment of considering what could have caused it, Castiel realized that it must have been his Grace, responding as if it were blood to a wound made of the same material.

Castiel extended his senses in a way that was decidedly angelic to realize that Michael’s seal was still on the cellar.

In a fit of frustration just an hour or so later, Castiel broke the seal without even truly intending to. He flew out of the cellar, entering some other layer of reality in his flight and bypassing both time and structures in the way. 

When Castiel reentered his reality, it was beside Michael. His brother shouted in surprise at his appearance, “Castiel! How did you get out?” He sounded, to Castiel at least, frightened.

Perhaps that was to be expected. Perhaps Michael should have been frightened.

Castiel mentally berated himself, just because he had more power now did not mean that he was a different person. Arrogance was something that Castiel hated, and he would not become something that he despised.

Castiel turned to his brother, “Michael, I have discovered something interesting.”

Michael gave his brother a once over and recoiled slightly, “What, Castiel?”

“It is not of import, not to you, at least.” Castiel said with a straight face, looking over his older brother, “though perhaps you ought to know that you will no longer be able to simply seal me away when I disobey your orders, brother.”

He flew away before Michael could say a word in response.

**The Novak Estate, 245, A.D.**

The cacophony of noise erupted in the evening. The news traveled throughout the family quickly. Michael and Lucifer had begun a fight in the neighboring city. Castiel drew his muscles taught and flew to stop the madness that always seemed to follow his elder brothers.

Castiel re-entered his reality through a fracture in it’s border. That could only be caused by a battle of epic proportions that required energy from another layer.

Few mages were capable of breaking through. In fact, only the Novak family was known to be able to do it.

Castiel forced himself to calm down, he might have hated their petty squabbles and the way that they settled them, but he also refused to take the lives of his half brothers.

He appeared in the center of the battle. Directly in between Michael and Lucifer, both of whom fought with blades made to _kill_.

“ENOUGH!” Castiel shouted. He raised his right hand and spread his wings in threat. He amplified his voice enough to cut through that of the battle. The light of his Grace emanated from his hand and he glowered at Michael, the clear instigator of the fight.

It was always Michael.

Both blades disappeared.

“I will not allow you to destroy all within this region to settle this dispute. If you truly must fight, then do it where no one else will be caught in the middle.” He lowered his voice so only his brothers could hear, “You know as well as I that I could end you both where you stand. Do not drag innocents into family matters.”

**The Novak Estate, 690, A.D.**

Castiel Novak was done. He was angry at his brothers for all but forcing him to stay at the Estate for so long, and he was jealous of Gabriel. The second youngest Novak. 

“I’m leaving, Cassie. I’m sick of watching them fight. I’m sick of all the disorder and the chaos and the blood and the destruction.” Gabriel had said to him. His voice low and fervent. He may as well have shouted.

Gabriel was leaving.

The only sibling who he ever took solace in was leaving him to keep the peace. To spend an eternity as a counterbalance to his oldest brothers.

He wanted to ask Gabriel to stay, to beg him to stay with him and make sure that he stayed. 

But Gabriel deserved to leave if that was what he truly wanted. So, Castiel did not ask that of him.

Instead he said, “Good luck, Gabriel. I wish you all the best. If you require my aid, just call.”

Gabriel said, “Of course, same to you brother.”

Castiel was not prepared to watch his older brother turn around and walk out the door. He was not prepared to stop Michael and Lucifer from tearing apart the planet to find him, either. But he did both.

**The Novak Estate, 1780, A.D.**

A revolution. What a curious happening. Castiel watched his brothers placing bets on who would emerge victorious in the revolution, the Novaks had lived in secrecy for nearly a thousand years, and if there truly was a revolution, Lucifer wanted to use it to reemerge.

Castiel didn’t want that. He did want the continental army to win, however. Not for his own gain, but because the freedom that the colonials fought for was something that he believed in.

Michael didn’t much care either way, but Inias placed his bets on the British crushing the Revolutionaries. Simply because of what he called “foolish idealism”, maybe he was right.

Castiel flew to Virginia. He stayed invisible, too many risks came with revealing himself, but in truth Castiel hoped that one day, he might be able to move here. To leave his brothers and give himself the freedom that might await him.

Inias’s words echoed through his head like a spell that projected itself off of a wall. _Foolish idealism_. Castiel smirked at the thought that he was more like the humans that were fighting in the war that his brothers. They were the humans, after all.

**The Novak Estate, 1930, A.D.**

“I’m leaving, Michael” Castiel gazed down at Inias’s body. His brother’s lifeless form was surrounded by his blood. Frozen in tableau. If it were another day, a different body, Castiel might have painted him.

“When will you be back, Castiel?” Came Michael’s soft inquiry. When he was not trying to kill Lucifer, Michael had grown to be far more caring and kind. It looked strange on him.

Castiel turned to meet the piercing blue gaze of the eldest Novak and said, “I won’t be, Michael. I can’t do this anymore.” He pleaded for Michael to understand with his eyes, begged him not to battle with Lucifer and force Castiel to come back.

In an uncharacteristic show of understanding, Michael nodded.

When he left, Castiel destroyed all records of his affiliation with the Novak family. It was for the best that nobody be able to find him. 

In flight to the United States of America, Castiel had a brief moment to think about what he was doing. Finally, _finally_ he was leaving Michael and Lucifer. The only reason that it was even possible for him was that apparently Inias being killed in one of their fights shocked them into a truce.

Maybe, finally, Castiel could live alone in freedom. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally _live_.

**A Cabin in a Wyoming Forest, 1990, A.D.**

Castiel knew that his brothers had moved to the U.S., that in itself was not a problem. The problem was the likelihood that their presence would draw hunters. 

He lived comfortably, alone in the woods. Nobody knew that he was there, and he spent the majority of his time healing the forest. Keeping it free of impurities. Healing the creatures that lived there and protecting the land from those who would harm it.

His cabin was comfortable, but not excessive. The walls were made of beautiful living trees, the floor, too. The inside had taken more time, but given his power of flight and teleportation, it only took some three months. 

He lived in blissful freedom that he had never before truly understood.

If Michael or Lucifer were troubled by hunters, Castiel decided, it was their own problem. He would leave them to their fate. He had protected both of them for far longer than he ought to have had to.


End file.
